She didn't really have an opinion on his scent. She couldn't register as decay. But Lorelle's smell wasn't all that good anyway. That aside, she felt safe and happy laying there, against him.

As she said the words, she realised what they meant. She hadn't thought about it before, but she'd grow old and die. She'd be gone, and Arturo would remain. She withdrew a little, emotionally shutting off. She loved a man who'd have to move on, sooner or later. She didn't want to think about it, but Lore felt a tear sting behind her eyeball. For now, she'd be able to manage to keep it back.

She kissed him, a bit sadly, but happy to have him around. "Y te amo", she repeated, smiling. "I love your language."

She sighed deeply, pressing herself closer against Arturo, suddenly starting to become aware of a lot of her mortal problems again. She didn't want to bore Arturo with them, but now they've had their fun, reality was setting in again.

The mortality of his partners was never a topic he liked to speak about. It was always there and even without having to say much about it but hint as his age, he knew she understood. It was why too he didn't always share what he was. Because in knowing, it made some people feel...insignificant. To love a being that would keep going after they were gone. The anxiety of being remembered afterward and the fear of abandonment. Of growing old beside someone who forever looked in his thirties. It would not be a discussion he ever began with Lorelle.

Arturo felt some of that distance, but he could not begin to know why. He pulled her closer with a hum, wanting to soak in her warmth and her company until either she told him to leave or they fell asleep. "It is very passionate," he agreed. "Perhaps I can teach it to you." He was aware her grasp of written English might not be the soundest base to start from, but he was no schoolteacher and while he was master of many languages, most were through use. Trial and error. Many he had learned so that he could communicate with someone he was attached to. Or they had even taught him. He'd known bits and pieces of Italian, but he had mastered it so he could talk Giulio. Hardly the most extreme thing he had ever done for love.

"There is something bothering you," he observed as she grew quiet. Not that he was talking much either, but she had always been the more vocal one.

The woman smiled, nodding softly. "I'd like that", she said, in response to him teaching her Spanish. Her voice sounded a bit tired, because she was. Mentally and physically. The realisation that Arturo would outlive her was weighing heavily on her.

He was quick to notice something was the matter. Lorelle sighed and covered her head with the blanket. She'd stay down there for a few moments before removing it again. "It's just-". What was it? "It's- a lot", she concluded, a sigh leaving her lips. "Knowing you're immortal, it's made me realise I'm... I'm not. And there's a war going on. If I die... My siblings are all alone. They're too young to take care of themselves. They wouldn't survive." She became silent, her slow breathing the only sound in the room. "And you're good to me. I like who I am when I'm with you. But you can't stay. Or even if you do, I'll die. Whatever the cause is, I'll die." A singular, salty tear found its way down her cheek.

Arturo was glad to hear she was willing to learn. He spoke it often enough. The language was still common, even an entire continent away. Not that he was entirely thrilled by the means at which it was carried across the oceans but he tried not to become too invested in human politics. There was only so much one could redirect without calling attention. Regardless, it would be nice to share with Lorelle. To have someone else to talk to. To give her something to learn and them something special to share.

Were he a gambling man (and he was) he would have put money on it being something to do with his overzealousness or her exhaustion. But it seemed something else was at the forefront of her mind, something she was uncomfortable speaking to. He decided it was best to leave it, simply settling back thinking to sleep as she hid herself.

Her mustering words surprised him, but of course his Lorelle was dedicated in that way and wasn't so shy around him. He was glad for that. Arturo listened quietly, though he might have corrected her about his immortality playfully had her topic not strayed so suddenly serious. Her worry for her young siblings was admirable. He sighed as she finished, reaching over to brush her tears away. "When did you become so morbid?" He teased.

"Yes, that is the way of life. But you know you won't let anything get between you and your family. And while I don't plan to leave any time soon, you don't need me to look after yourself," he affirmed. It was a sweet sentiment, that she was looking so far ahead. But mortals were creatures of the present. "You're better suited to not thinking so far in advance. Just be here with me, right now," he encouraged, leaning over to kiss Lorelle.

She was right of course. But even he wasn't wanting to think about being without her. It would happen. He would handle it then. Not a moment before.

She chuckle at his question, although it was more a defeated chuckle than anything else. Lorelle shrugged. Perhaps she had always been so morbid, but she tried not to think about it too much. She was scared to admit the was afraid of the future. She felt like it'd become real as soon as she allowed herself to admit it.

Their family wasn't the most wealthy. They did okay, but there wasn't a lot of room for error. A burnt meal meant no food that night. A sick child meant prayer. Her father dying in the war meant it was just her with her siblings, and she had no income. "I won't, but the other thing about life is that it's unpredictable." Her youngest sibling was 14. There had been another one, who would've been 17 now, but they had died, suffering the same disease as her mother. "Believe me, I don't want to think about it, but sometimes I envy that your security of staying alive is much higher than mine." Lore laughed softly, but there was still little humor in it. "I just don't want them to become orphans. They're my siblings, but since Mother died, I've been looking after them." She sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, you're right. I'm here with you, right now. And I like that."

The man had lived many lives. Soldier more than he could count. Explorer and pirate. Trader and merchant. Courtesan and noble. Sometimes in love, sometimes with a family, sometimes alone. Some of it he had planned, some of it had happened by chance. Sometimes, there was security in those lives, sometimes not. Sometimes he lost everything and everyone. He'd started doing a better job of planning for the fact that there was very likely to be a tomorrow and with the way the world was evolving, simply living off the land and the hospitality of others wasn't going to work for much longer.

But none of those lives had felt as real to him as his first. He didn’t expect Lorelle to understand.

"What I have isn't life, Lorelle," he said quietly, the edge of his tone sharp. "I may not have died, but existing as long as I have is not always a blessing.” He was failing to mention exactly how his existence worked, but that wasn’t the point. He would never so casually force this life on another, nor would he so casually grant it. “Besides, there are plenty of ways I can die. Just not old age." Arturo grimaced. He’d contemplated the theory of taking his own life. Allowing himself to die. But unfortunately, he had never been one to give in. It wasn’t his nature. Instead, he had to live with himself through all the feeding and death and the lost loved ones.

He was quiet for a long time, not really sure what else to say. Not sure he wanted to speak on it. But nor did he want Lorelle to feel like he was about to put up some wall. Humans were sensitive like that. And she was already worrying about a future that might not be for some time so he wanted to share with her. "I didn't want to be the way I am. I was a matador…a…bullfighter. Descended from a long line of such artists. One day, while watching another matador's...show, the bull broke through the fence. And as any stupid brave boy will do...I got in the way." He snorted. It wasn't a very glorious way to die, bleeding to death. Not even gored in his own fight. “My patron at the time was...well, like me. Only instead of letting life take its course to death, he...turned me. I have never forgiven him." He finished the story flatly. He had no affection for the man he had once considered an uncle. Family. Santiago had wanted so much more than that. By turning him, the vampire had forever tether Arturo to him and this world and as much as he wrestled against that bond, it remained. “I was quite a devout Catholic until then, I’ll have you know.” His tone returned to that lighter, more playful tone.

The sharpness of his tone didn't go unnoticed, and the corners of her mouth dropped, forming a harsh line. She could feel sadness and anger in her stomach, but didn't say anything. Arturo could say whatever he wanted, she didn't agree. Living, no matter how long or short, wasn't a blessing in her eyes. Even if there were still plenty of ways to die, to her it sounded like being a vampire made it easier to survive, but again, she didn't say anything. What she had just shared with him, hadn't been a plea for him to turn her either. In the future, it would be one of the reasons to want to turn, but that night, she was just sharing her worries.

She didn't want to tell Arturo she didn't agree, because you technically couldn't disagree with someone's personal experience, but Lorelle did feel angry with him for focussing on just one aspect of what she'd shared. It wasn't the vampire life she envied. It was the possibility, or the opportunity, to be in people's lives for longer than a regular human being could. Perhaps he didn't understand that. She realised that she didn't know all that much about him. Did he know what it was like to have to care for young children? She just regretted pouring her heart out, only to be dismissed. 

The dark-haired woman didn't move, as to not show she was unhappy with his reaction, and kept her head on his chest, although her eyes were staring at the window. She only moved them again when the man spoke once more. Arturo had only recently revealed his true nature, and Lorelle hadn't asked him about life before the turn. "A matador?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. She hadn't expected it, but she also didn't know what she had expected. "Why did he turn you?"

He knew no matter what he said, there was a chance she wouldn't like his reply. Perhaps he had focused so entirely on one aspect. But it was sometimes difficult, to have a conversation every hundred years and still never get any of the words right. Her silence implied this was yet another of those times. Arturo sighed.

Lorelle repeated the word as though she had heard it before so he felt no need to explain. Her surprise earned a soft chuckle. “I am told it is still a very noble sport in Spain.” He hadn't been back in a while. Long enough to miss it.

“That is a harder question,” he said. Even he didn't know the truth of the man's thoughts and heart. “He was a…collector. Of art. Of jewelry. Of…people. Some were slaves. Some servants. Others were made to think we were free but in reality, we were simply his possessions. And I was one he was not willing to throw away so easily.” Likely the man had considered him more than that. But whatever their relationship had been, it had not been mutual. “I was useful. Entertaining. And sometimes, when one is as ancient as him, they forget what it is like to force someone to watch their family grow old. To deprive them of having their own children.”

His dark eyes looked across the room, but he was somewhere else. “I know you worry about your siblings. I promise I will be here to help you.” He cared about Lorelle. And didn't want to see her worry consume her. So he would care about her siblings too if he had to.

She was familiar with the word, and the context gave her enough cues to understand what it meant. When he mentioned Spain, she started to wonder what it was like. It must be sunnier than here. She didn't like animals, so she wouldn't want to go for the bulls, but anywhere was better than here. She realised she couldn't go, though. She couldn't leave her siblings behind. It would have to be a dream, stored away in the back of her mind forever.

Lore asked him why his sire had turned him. She listened to him explain. The man sounded horrible. Toying with someone's life like that was not what one was meant to do. "He sounds horrible, I'm sorry. But you escaped?", she said, now understanding where he was coming from. Her last words were more of a question than a statement. He must have managed to escape his sire, because he was here now. "Did you want to have children?" He had mentioned it, so it sounded like it had been a dream of his at one point.

The woman could sense that Arturo was mentally somewhere else. She felt bad for making him think about the past. Her hand would look for his, to squeeze it gently. "Thank you", she responded with a weak smile. "You're a good man, Arturo."

”He played at being a gracious host,” Arturo said. Though his tone dripped with disdain, putting him in firm agreement. The vampire was horrible. He hadn't realized it when he was human and after…it was too late. He'd had a lot taken from him without realizing it.

Arturo took a long deep breath, chest rising and falling heavily. “Unfortunately, one does not ‘escape’ their sire. To create another vampire is to conduct a blood pact, forever bonding the turned to their creator,” he explained. “It…is a sort of compulsion. To protect them. Serve them. Obey them…want them.” Perhaps not in a romantic or sexual way, but that need to be near the other man was present even now. Buried, easier to shake with time and effort but ever present. That bond had filled the void in him at first but against his will. Arturo had spent the last few centuries working on filling that void in other ways, just as he worked to “escape” his sire. “It's…complicated.”

Her question stung a little despite his centuries to come to terms with the notion that would never be possible. “Yes. Though I have since determined I hate small children but…” he shrugged, attempting to spin it with a laugh, especially as Lorelle was so concerned for her child siblings and he wasn't trying to make light of her desires, just his own. He wanted to explain further, but decided perhaps this exact moment was not the right time to admit he had slept with many other women. “I'm infertile. As are all vampires. Hence why we procreate with a blood ritual.”

Her hand finding his and squeezing gently brought him back a bit to where he wanted to be. Arturo smiled at her in the dark. These things she asked about where only the tip of the iceberg of what it meant to be immortal. There was a heavy price to be paid for that security she envied. One he had not been prepared to pay, nor would have wanted to. But he supposed even he had taken years to learn the boundaries of the bargain that had been forced on him. “I am when I wish to be. As all people are,” he replied with a shrug. Though he did return the words. “You're a good woman, Lorelle,” he said, squeezing her hand back. “I apologize if it seems I am hiding things from you. It has been a long time since I spoke so…candidly to a mortal.”

she didn't want to ask too many questions about his sire, because it was clear what an unpleasant man he was, and that Arturo didn't like him much. She had thought that he had managed to escape him, but what Arturo told her, made it obvious that he hadn't. Her brows furrowed, trying to imagine what it was like to hate someone, but still feel the need to protect and serve them. She had nothing to compare it to, so she simply took his word for it.

The question whether he had wanted children had been a risk, because she didn't want to upset him, but she also didn't want to steer the conversation away from him and his past. Lore was grateful that he was telling her more about it, even if it was a difficult past. Hating small children was understandle to her, so she smiled very softly. The cries of a baby was one of the worst sounds in the world. The interrupted sleep, the amount of attention they required, it was too much. She hadn't known that vampires were infertile. In a way, it was good news, after the 'dance' they had just performed, but she felt for him.

To try to lighten the mood, Lorelle had told Arturo he was a good man. His response was less positive than her remark had been, because it diminished the message. Yet she smiled when he returned the words.

"Don't apologise", she said kindly. "You don't owe me an explanation at all, so I'm just grateful for what you're willing to share." She watched the curtains sway in the breeze coming through the window, which was ajar. "I know it's not the same, but I hope my siblings can help ease the pain of not having been able to have children of your own. They like you, you know. Ever since they saw you that one time, they're asking when you're coming over for dinner." The dark-haired woman chuckled. "But don't feel obliged to take care of them. I promised my Mother I'd do that, and I intend to keep that promise. With it without help from others."

He understood that some people, men and women, possessed the right amount of desire to nurture and raise another that to them, the sound of a baby crying triggered an urge to soothe and comfort and determine the problem and correct it. He had learned the sound triggered in him the opposite. Likely it came from years of education and learning and conversing. To think he knew so many ways to say 'I love you' and a child of that age had nothing, no words or even gestures and they didn't understand or have control over their actions. He was no teacher either. He preferred his 'children' to be well trained and educated and coordinated before he found them worth paying any attention to let alone investing effort into.

Arturo smiled and leaned over to kiss her forehead as she spoke of his siblings. Of him treating them as his family. That they were interested in him. that she was so willing to make her part of her family, to fill that void that he had never told her about but that, after all this time, of course Lorelle could sense some part of it. "Thank you. It would not hurt to try." All it would hurt, potentially, was him. Growing to care for one woman that he would eventually leave was hard enough. "I shall have to properly meet them soon. Though we'll see about how helpful I am," he said dubiously with a soft laugh. Arturo had, on a number of occasions, cared for others and was more than capable had her siblings been small newborns. Young, old, sick, injured. With and without their families. It was hard to leave those he cared about, even when he told them and himself that he would. Perhaps that was why he didn't always consider himself a 'good' man.

Forehead kisses would never fail to make her swoon. It was such a kind, loving and gentle gesture. Lorelle smiled again, and yawned slightly. "More useful than you might think", she said. "Just having people around makes them happy. And if it's you who is around, I'm happy." She would lean over to give him a kiss before tucking herself against him again, a bit more comfortably now, because she felt how tired she was.

They'd talk a little more, but eventually Lorelle would go to sleep. Normally she didn't sleep naked. It always made her feel vulnerable, and somehow every time she had tried it, she had gotten nightmares. Probably because she felt vulnerable. But now, with Arturo next to her, she didn't mind at all. In fact, she slept well. Perhaps better than she had in months.

---

[Time skip - same year, multiple months later]

---

Her skin was pale, her breathing weak. One of her siblings had brought a disease into their home, and while he had recovered from it, it had hit Lorelle hard. She had been bedridden for at least a week, and every day she felt weaker. Her sibling cried uncontrollably. He felt bad, although he hadn't done it on purpose, of course, and scared. He didn't want to lose his sister.

It was the only thing Lorelle could think of now. She had enjoyed herself the last couple of months. She had been taking care of her siblings and spending time with Arturo. Sometimes she almost forgot about the war. But this disease was very real.

The young woman spent time in her room a lot. Once a day she dragged herself out of bed to make food for the children, so they could eat, but that day she had woken up and realised she didn't have the energy for it anymore. She could barely keep her eyes open. A deep sigh left her lips, and she started to cough. With a wheezing sound, she inhaled air. It might very well be her last day alive. She had failed her Mother.